Saturday, July 9, 2011

Transition

Somehow, suddenly, inexplicably, it has been seven weeks since the birth of our beloved Henry. Obviously we have been sailing away on our babymoon with minimal contact to the outside world. But lest you think that the babymoon has been without hiccup, let me share this little story...

When Henry was 9 days old, the boys were asking to go back to church. It had been weeks and weeks since we had made it to a service, but I was feeling ready to at least attempt it. Justin and I lay in bed the night before and made a game plan--decided who would need to shower and who could pass with a hairbrush and some q-tips...visualized where all of the non-muddy shoes were...defaulted to cold cereal so that we all had a chance of getting out the door on time. And against all odds, we made it....
and it seemed that everyone did quite well (despite having to take both the car AND the truck for the first time, since we no longer fit in the Volvo)...
until we returned home and the boys were throwing their crafts down in search of peanut butter and jelly and I found this sweet little paper that said "Reuben's Mom"

....
and I turned it over to reveal this...




....
and I thought suddenly that maybe the transition of bringing Baby home hadn't actually gone as well as maybe I thought it had (tho I would love to have a pair of those killer boots)...

A bit dismayed but not wanting to squash tender, resentful feelings, I asked Reuben about his picture...

and he shrugged (while eating his pb&j) and said, "oh, that's just a picture of that giant we learned about, the one that the boy killed....I wanted to write "Reuben's. For Mom" on the back, but I didn't know how to spell "for". So I just wrote my name and yours. But you can have it!" and he danced off to make another sandwich.

One tiny crisis averted. I try to remember that on the hairier days!